


Against the Odds

by medusine



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, M/M, Prompt Fill, lips and beard fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 21:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12713028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusine/pseuds/medusine
Summary: A little wager can go a long way. Or: how John Silver devises a way to get what he wants out of a certain Captain.





	Against the Odds

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born from [this post](http://ellelan.tumblr.com/post/167418420712/hc-where-silver-convinces-flint-to-kiss-him-or) on Ellelan's tumblr. Thanks for the inspiration! :D
> 
> The story is set in a slightly AU S2 where the crew actually have time to go prize-hunting a few times before all things go to hell in Charleston.

It started with– well. It started with a stupid and quite drunken flash of inspiration.

They'd been celebrating their latest successful hunt on the beach, and in the light of the bonfire, Flint's beard glinted with the most fascinating shades. Copper and gold, the colour of coins; trust him to have a beard made of riches. And then, when Flint shifted, the colour deepened to a darker orange, its shadows blood red. Silver remembered the day Flint had beaten Singleton to a pulp, and being unable to tell where the blood on his face ended and the beard began.

It shouldn't have been an arousing image, and yet he still hadn't quite put it out of his mind.

Then Silver noticed them, half hidden beneath Flint's beard. Luscious, delicately formed lips. Shaded by his moustache, his upper lip was a mystery only waiting to be uncovered. And his lower lip… his lower lip was plump, fleshy, and just a little pouty. When Flint raised a bottle of rum to his mouth and took a swig, Silver caught himself wagering with himself that Flint's lips would feel incredible, pressed against Silver's mouth, teased with his tongue, sucked between his teeth.

Silver couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, which was probably a mistake, because Flint noticed. Those perfect lips quirked into a one-sided smile, and Flint raised his eyebrows, which in turn raised goosebumps all up Silver's arms. Damn that man!

“What're you looking so happy about?” he asked Silver, his husky voice half-covered by the crackle of the great fire and the sounds of drunken sailors singing and laughing and fucking.

Against his better judgement, Silver moved closer, if only so that he didn't have to shout over the din. His eyes hadn't quite left Flint's mouth. It curled into one of Flint's humourless sneers, and the flash of teeth, sharp and white, pushed words off Silver's tongue before he could stop them.

“I was thinking about a wager,” he said. Which was true, in a way.

“Can't say I'm surprised you'd be a gambling man,” Flint rumbled beside him. “What wager was that?”

“Ah, now that would be telling, Captain.” Silver beamed at him, and somehow in this light the Captain's hard eyes seemed a little softer. “Let's just say… someone wagered that I'd never manage to get a kiss from a famous Nassau figure who was quite clearly out of my reach.”

Flint snorted. “Are we talking about someone specific?”

“We might be.” Silver's face was starting to ache from its frozen smile. God, what was he doing? He was baiting Flint. Flint who'd bludgeoned Singleton to death. Flint who'd snapped his best friend's neck with bare hands. Shit.

“Well if it's Eleanor, try and make it so I can be there when she punches you.”

Silver chuckled, though that comment didn't reassure him at all. But then his mouth started moving of its own accord again. “But what if it were you, Captain?”

“Beg pardon?”

“What if someone had challenged me to get a kiss from you, knowing full well such a challenge might make us both look bad, whatever we chose to do?”

Flint raised his eyebrows, and Silver begged his brain to have a plan, because if he couldn't bullshit his way out of this one, Flint was surely going to kill him.

“Think about it,” and with that, Silver moved a little closer. “If we're seen kissing, then the recently reappointed Captain is obviously conspiring with the treacherous cook, rather than cooperating with those respectable figures, Dufresne and DeGroot. He might even be preparing changes in the crew. But on the other hand, if I don't succeed in getting that kiss, well, the reputation of my persuasive skills is just about ruined, isn't it?”

The silence was leaden. Flint simply looked at him, his face haughty and disbelieving.

“Or maybe I'm wrong,” Silver said quickly. “Maybe Billy just wanted to mess me around.”

“Billy?” Flint's tone was sharp, slightly paranoid. “He put you up to this?”

Silver's mouth had saved him from a thousand terrible situations, so why on earth did it want to get him killed now? If Flint didn't throttle him, then Billy would if he found out. Jesus Christ, and all because of that stupid fire-coloured beard.

Then Flint rolled his eyes and reached for the rum. Once he'd taken a swig, he handed it over to Silver, who took it numbly and forced down a mouthful. Did Flint actually believe him?

“Which is worse, then?” Flint asked.

“Mmh?” Silver answered, throat still tight and burning from the rum. Besides, the less he said, the better off he'd be.

Flint turned to him, leaning closer. “Which is worse: for you to lose your credibility, or for people to believe that we're… colluding?”

Why had “colluding” sounded so incredibly dirty in Flint's mouth? Or was it just the fact that Flint's mouth was so _close_ all of a sudden, and that his voice had dropped to barely a murmur?

“Well…” Silver started, and found that now, all of a sudden, his mind had completely dried up. This possibly had something to do with that lower lip, jutting out slightly, and just within his reach.

“I think, Mr Silver, that people already think that we're colluding,” Flint continued, and Silver had the impression that he was shifting closer, his voice a low growl. “On the other hand, your credibility is very much needed at this time. Wouldn't you say so?”

“When you put it like that, Captain…” Oh god, did that mean what Silver thought it meant? Flint's eyes, that had been boring holes into Silver's head until recently, flicked to his lips.

Flint gave a little sigh and shifted forward. Silver didn't move, rooted to the spot, half-convinced that a dagger would appear at his jugular, that hands would close over his throat, that somehow those teeth would tear his heart out.

Flint's lips pressed against his, warm and dry and surprisingly soft. A shiver rose from deep in Silver's core right up to the top of his spine, even as his lips parted slightly in response. All too briefly, Flint's mouth opened, his teeth brushing against the inside of Silver's lower lip, before he drew back.

“I trust you've won your wager,” he rumbled, though Silver could barely hear it over the sound of blood pounding in his ears.

Long seconds went by as Flint watched in silence, until Silver realised that he was waiting for an answer. He gathered his wits, and just about managed to give a rueful smile. “I think I have.”

Flint regarded him thoughtfully for a beat, then gave a nod and reached for the rum again. When Silver finally regained control over his legs, he excused himself vaguely and hurried away, still shivering.

Days went by, and turned to weeks. Whatever had passed between Silver and Flint clearly appeared to be meaningless to the Captain, since he barely even seemed to notice Silver now. He was all business, all the time, and Silver was left with only the aching memory of Flint's soft mouth against his, of his beard prickling against his skin, of the promise in Flint's delicate touch.

The day Billy and Flint got into some argument over rigging while they were sailing off to another prize, Silver smelled trouble instantly. He stayed in the shadow of the hallway leading to the galley and strained to hear what they were saying. Even the hissing waves didn't quite drown out these men's voices when they were at loggerheads.

“I know you're trying to get what control you can over this ship,” Flint barked. “D'you think I can't tell you're dying to be made quartermaster?”

“Well _someone_ should be taking rational decisions here, that's for sure.”

“Oh I think you're well beyond rational decisions, Mr Bones, and deeply ensconced in stirring up shit. What else would you call trying to show Silver up with that ridiculous bet?”

Silver's stomach churned at the look on Billy's face, first the wide-eyed incomprehension, then the way his eyebrows screwed up in puzzlement.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Silver didn't hear the rest – Flint dropped his voice and the sea swallowed up his words. All Silver knew was that this was bad, terribly bad. He saw amusement on Billy's face, he told Flint something with an incredibly smug look, and Flint's upper lip curled in a snarl. When Flint turned around, he looked straight at Silver, smouldering with fury.

Silver barely had time to wonder whether it would be better to throw himself into the ocean or to let Flint kill him with his bare hands before his Captain was advancing on him.

“My cabin, now,” Flint snapped at him, his face like thunder.

Silver followed, hoping against hope that he'd find some way to talk himself out of this situation. He closed the door to Flint's cabin behind him, heart pounding in his throat. Flint stood by his desk with his back to him.

“Mr Silver,” he said slowly, with a coolness that froze Silver's blood. “It appears that there was no wager with Mr Bones after all.”

Silver swallowed hard. “No, Captain.”

Flint whirled around. “Then why the fuck did you tell me there was?”

“I… it seemed like a good idea at the time?” He could feel himself smile painfully bright.

“You thought it would be a good idea to ask me to kiss you?” Flint growled, striding closer. Silver resisted the urge to back away. “Why? Why on earth would you think that?”

A nervous laugh escaped Silver before he could choke it down. “Seriously? Isn't it obvious?”

Flint stopped and elected to glare Silver down from a distance instead. A stupid, suicidal part of Silver's mind couldn't help but notice how gorgeous he was, face flushed with anger, nostrils flaring, and his hair wild from the wind. And his lips, fuck, his lips were _trembling_.

Since Flint remained silent, Silver cast about for something to say, and strangely enough the truth decided to come forth. “I… I fancied a kiss from you and… that story just came to me.”

“Well why on earth would you fancy that?” Flint snapped, his voice nasal and condescending, but no longer actually furious.

Silver gave a shrug, and a grin that was nearly natural. “I have a weakness for nice lips.”

Something shifted on Flint's face, so subtle that Silver couldn't quite tell what it was, except that it flooded his body with relief.

“A weakness, you say?” Flint closed the distance between them with a certain swagger to his step. “Brought on by the rum, perhaps?”

With Flint standing mere inches away from him, Silver's heart started galloping again for an entirely different reason. It was still truly mad for him to be this attracted to Flint, yet he couldn't help himself. His stomach fluttered at the sound of Flint's breath and the heat coming off his body.

“Not as much brought on as, well, heightened,” Silver breathed, once again transfixed by Flint's mouth.

Flint hummed thoughtfully. “And you thought that you'd lie to get what you wanted, because it would be out of your reach otherwise.”

“Pretty much the story of my life, Captain.” A shiver went through Silver when Flint's eyes, dark and intense, fixed on him as though reading into his soul.

Flint shifted back a step after letting tension coil in Silver's stomach for a while. “You're going to sort this out with Billy, Mr Silver.”

“Of course, Captain.” Silver sagged with relief and ached with disappointment all at once. He moved back, towards the door. “Won't be hard, I'm sure I can–”

Flint moved, then. Before he knew it, Silver's back was to the door, and Flint's chest was pressed up against his. “Not _now_ , Mr Silver.”

Warmth burst into Silver's chest, filling his stomach, travelling through his veins to the very tips of his fingers, as Flint found Silver's mouth. He moved slowly, exploring Silver's lips with his own in light touches, letting the tip of his tongue brush along them, teasing with the minutest scrape of teeth. Silver could hardly breathe when Flint broke the kiss, his whole body trembling under a rush of lust.

“I'd wager we have more pressing matters than talking to Billy right now, wouldn't you?” Flint asked with a quirk of his lips, his green eyes glittering.

Silver answered by grabbing fistfuls of Flint's shirt and devouring his delectable mouth.


End file.
